


the good life

by erebones



Series: The Twelve Days of Fever [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, New Years, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 21:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9091315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erebones/pseuds/erebones
Summary: A New Year's Day proposal.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in my "secrets to a good life" 'verse, but you don't necessarily have to read that first. But I wouldn't mind if you did! ;)

The house is very still. Felix curls his toes against the mattress and stretches out his hand. Beside him, the blankets are still warm, flipped back at the edge where Carver climbed out of bed not so long ago. He yawns. Sighs. Stretches.

Behind the curtain, which was pulled askew and then dropped back into place just off-center, the sun’s first rays are twinkling in the spiderwebs of frost that adorn the windowpanes. Faintly, the sound of a whistle comes through the walls, and a gentle holler for the dog. He is warm, and a little bit sleepy, but he can smell the first strains of coffee dripping into its pot, and he wants to see his boyfriend.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes and finds his glasses with a searching hand, almost knocking them off the bedside table. When he puts them on, the world slips into better focus and there’s a piece of paper on the pillow next to him. Nice paper, almost cardstock-thick, with a scalloped edge. Biting his lip in a smile, Felix plucks it from the pillow and holds it to his nose.

_..._

_My dearest,_

_I’m sorry I got up first, but you should be used to it by now. My lazybones. Happy anniversary._

_I know we traded gifts at Hanukkah, like we always do, but I wanted to do something extra special for today. Five years is a pretty big deal. If you can’t already smell it, I had your dad ship me that really swank coffee you like but can never find in England, and it should be ready by the time you read this. And the biscuits your mum makes. She gave me the recipe and I tried, I promise. If she was in the country to make them herself… well, I tried one, and they’re not that bad._

_There’s something else, too, but I want to give it to you in person. I love you. Come kiss me good morning, beautiful._

_Carver_

_..._

From the other room he hears the sliding doors shut and the bounding clatter of Scout’s claws on the kitchen tile as she makes a beeline for her food dish. And then Carver’s feet, heavier than he thinks they are even barefoot, maneuvering through the house and slowing as they approach the bedroom. Felix sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes, letting the note rest in his lap.

“You're awake,” Carver says when he pokes his head around the corner. Dressed in his pyjamas still, hair rumpled, lips soft and smiling. His eyes fall to the note. “Oh good, you found it.”

“I did.” Felix holds his arms out imperiously. “I believe you requested a good-morning kiss?”

The mattress sinks a little when Carver sits on the edge of it, and Felix lets himself lean into his weight as he cups his face in his hands for a kiss—shallow, yes, and tasting faintly stale, but his lips are warm, familiar, and Felix finds he's smiling through it until it's hardly a kiss at all, just their faces pressed together so close their lashes brush when they look into one another’s eyes.

“I love you, my sweet man,” Felix whispers. He estimates they have about thirty more seconds before they are interrupted by a leggy, rambunctious golden retriever, so he makes good use of the time by kissing him again. “Thank you for my presents.”

“You're welcome, sweetheart. And I love you, too. Oh, bloody hell—”

A flurry of concentrated dog breaks the quiet moment, and Felix corrals her by throwing his arms around her neck and kissing her face, a difficult job considering she's trying to lick both of them at once. “Eurgh. Dog food breath.” Felix laughs as she burrows her cold nose against his neck, and Carver hauls her off the bed with a hand to her collar.

“C’mon girl, you just had your run. Go chew on something a minute and let your daddies have some quiet time.”

It takes some persuasion, but the dog eventually settles down somewhere with a nylabone, and Felix drifts into the kitchen to doctor his coffee. Behind him, utterly uninterested in his morning caffeine, Carver puts his hands on his waist and rests his forehead against his shoulder, humming low in his chest.

“Are you awake, dear?”

“Mmmmhm.”

“Are you sure? I don't want to have you falling asleep on me while I'm giving you your present.”

“You're giving me a present? What is it? When can I open it?”

“Easy,” laughs Felix, turning to push his coffee into his hands. Carver takes it, looking disgruntled. “Of course I got you a present, ridiculous man. And I'm not telling you what it is until later.” He gives him a stern look. “Not until you give me _mine_. The in-person one, I mean.”

“Can I guess what it is?” Carver asks plaintively.

“You can most certainly try.” Felix smiles and pushes a lock of hair out of his moody blue eyes.

“If I guess will you give it to me now?” He leans into the touch and steals another kiss between sips of coffee. “Is it a morning blowjob?”

“Darling, you get _that_ a few times a week. There's nothing special about it.”

“Yes there is,” Carver pouts, as manfully as he can. Felix sighs and puts his coffee back down, looping both arms around his neck.

“Are you asking for a blowjob?”

“I mean, if you wanted.” _Now_ he's blushing, and when Felix kisses him his mouth is clumsy and turns to nuzzle his neck before too long. “I’m not particular.”

“Let's finish our coffee first, hmm?”

“Yeah all right. Want me to make breakfast?”

“Please!”

He doesn’t ask about his own gift, even though he’s itching with curiosity. Instead he helps assemble ingredients, grinning when Carver discovers the new set of chef’s knives he’d had commissioned from Dagna for the occasion. After more kisses, and more dramatic groans when Felix tells him they aren’t his _real_ present, Carver gets to work making omelettes and Felix sits at the kitchen table and sips his coffee, letting the caffeine work its way slowly through his veins.

They eat in companionable silence with their sock feet tangled under the table. Afterward, Felix washes up and pretends not to notice that Carver has disappeared, and is making a great deal of noise in the upstairs guest room. There’s a very solid _thud_ above his head and a strangled, “Ow! Where in the bloody hell did I—oh, thank god,” and he has to lean over and put his face in his arms to keep from laughing out loud.

Carver returns a minute later as Felix is stacking the last of the dishes in the drying rack, hands behind his back and an expectant expression on his face. Felix wipes his hands on a dish towel and puts his hands on his hips. “Morning blowjob time?”

“What? No!” Carver exclaims, blushing furiously. “I have your present now, is all.”

Felix’s heart slams against his ribcage. “Right. Let me just… run and get yours.”

He escapes to the bedroom and opens the drawer in his bedside table where he keeps his medication. The only place that Carver is guaranteed to never snoop. Not because Felix asked or even because he particularly cares, but because it’s Carver’s way of silently and determinedly _not_ being overprotective. In the back of the drawer he fishes out the little wrapped package with its tag attached, _Carver M. Hawke_ written on in Felix’s prettiest handwriting. He just stands there and holds it a minute, feeling the negligible yet enormous weight of it in his palm. He doesn’t know for sure what Carver’s present is going to be, but he has his suspicions, and it’s making him absurdly nervous.

 _Five years_ , he reminds himself. No small amount of time. He’s already made his choice. He takes a deep breath and heads back into the kitchen.

Carver is waiting for him, hands still behind his back, eyes going immediately to the package in Felix’s hand. He looks nervous, too, his lower lip pink from where he’s been chewing on it anxiously. Felix walks right up to him and kisses it gently, trying to soothe the tension thickening the room.

“How shall we do this, then?” he murmurs. “One at a time, or together?”

“Together,” Carver says decidedly, already blushing. “I, um, I didn’t wrap it. Because I’m shite at wrapping, and also I figured you would know what it was as soon as you saw it, so…” His babbling trails off at the gentle touch of Felix’s hand on his arm.

“Carv.” He smiles up at him and leans their foreheads together. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Carver whispers back.

Very quickly, they trade gifts. The neatly-wrapped square to Carver, and a similarly-sized box to Felix, with rounded edges and a black velvet surface. A ring box. He forces himself to breathe and watches Carver tear the paper off with shaking fingers.

“I know we’ve talked about this at length already,” he hears himself say as a navy blue ring box is revealed in Carver’s hands. “So it’s not a very good surprise, but I—I’m ready. I love you, and I want to be your husband.”

Carver chokes back a laugh and sniffles suspiciously. “I suppose it would be a bit ridiculous for both of us to go on one knee?”

“Maybe a little.” Felix takes a breath. “On the count of three?”

“One-two-three,” Carver blurts very quickly, and then they’re both giggling and fumbling to pry open the boxes at the same time. Felix gets his open and gasps a little. Inside is a carved rosewood ring made from a burl. It’s simple, with softened edges and the hard sheen of silver running through the center of it, and on the inside of the band, the metal is etched with rose petals.

“Oh my god. Carver, this is gorgeous!”

“Beth and I made it,” Carver says faintly, clearly distracted by his own ring. Felix had agonized over the choice for weeks, calling up Dorian to fret and complain, sending email after email to Bethany for her input, and conspiring with Leandra to find out Carver’s ring size. In the end he’d gone with something simple, a smooth titanium band with a thin ribbon of wood running through it. So… the exact mirror opposite of the ring Carver had made for Felix.

“I smell some sisterly machinations here,” Felix says. He catches Carver’s hand before he can put his ring on. “Hey, wait. That’s my job.” And then, despite Carver’s earlier quip, he goes to one knee. “Give it here.”

“So romantic,” Carver teases, but he hands over the ring without hesitation, smile bright and eyes glittering suspiciously. With his other hand he sets the ring box on the kitchen table and then rubs his thumb against Felix’s cheek as he slips the ring on Carver’s finger. He kisses his knuckles, after, and then laughs and submits himself to being pulled to his feet while Carver does the same, kneeling and slipping the ring on and smothering his palm with kisses. It’s a perfect fit.

“I’m glad we had the same idea,” Felix says afterward, curled up against Carver’s side as they cuddle on the couch and just enjoy being close to each other. “It might have been a bit awkward otherwise.”

“I’m sorry I waited so long.” Carver left hand is tangled with his, and he rubs his thumb against the ring glinting on Felix’s finger. “I wanted to do it sooner, but then I thought, well, it’s difficult to forget your anniversary when it’s on the first of the year.”

Felix snorts. “So you proposed today just so you would never forget to buy me flowers on the proper date?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve been proposing every day for the last five years. You just didn’t hear me.”

Felix frees his hand and slides both arms around his neck, holding him close. “Oh, love. I heard you. Did you hear me saying _yes_?”

Carver kisses him instead of answering. This time it tastes like coffee and anticipation, and Felix’s heart picks up speed as Carver slides a warm, familiar hand up his thigh. He moans and buries his face against his throat. “I s’pose I’m a little bit hard of hearing,” Carver whispers, and he can feel the vibration of his words against his cheek. “You could say it again if you like.”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.” Felix maneuvers himself until he’s sitting in Carver’s lap, straddling his thighs, and melts forward until their bodies are pressed together in every conceivable way. “I can’t _wait_ to marry you.”

Carver sighs and wriggles a little bit lower on the couch, hands on Felix’s hips. “I know there’s a lot of stuff to figure out, but I don’t want to think about it yet. Just kiss me, please. Mr. Alexius-Hawke.”

Felix kisses him earnestly as requested, but he pulls away just as Carver is starting to get handsy and shakes his head. “I’ve been thinking about that already. A lot, in fact.” He blushes. “I even talked to Dad about it. And I think… if you’re okay with it, I mean… I think I’d really like to be just Felix Hawke.”

Carver hugs him very suddenly then, taking his breath away as he crushes him against his chest. “Fee… are you sure? I mean, I’d love that, but you don’t have to give up your last name for mine.”

“But I want to. I promise, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want it.” Felix kisses his lips softly, enjoying the slow slide of Carver’s hands up and down his spine. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Carver wipes surreptitiously at his eyes. “Okay.”

Felix kisses his brow and rests against him as the build-up of emotion works its way through their systems. Then, unwarranted, a hot curl of amusement manifests in his belly and he toys with the elastic edge of Carver’s pyjamas. “So… about that other gift you wanted…”

Carver stares blankly at him and then bursts out laughing, loud enough to startle the dog awake from where she’d been snoozing on the hearth. “Oh god. Really?”

“What do you mean, _really_? Changed your mind, did you?”

“No. No, I didn’t change my mind.” He grins at him, dazzling, and kisses him, his lips, his throat, his hands. Felix lets him, so full of love for this man that he can hardly breathe. “C’mon, let’s relocate to the bedroom before the dog gets any ideas.”

* * *

           Felix's ring:                                                        Carver's ring:

                         


End file.
